duma does not usually meet new presences with combative hostility. this does not include those faces that he knows from a close present, marked with his blood or his gaze or, hells forbid, naga's ambivalent hand---to those kinds, he spits at them in silence, wearing a face to instead re-introduce himself. it is relatively easy to exist around them, furious as they may make him inside. to entirely new faces, however, he carries more restraint. he is quieter, more standoffish to a point, but he does not do any more than this.
to this entirely new face that he sees, that he senses, duma feels a gnashing fury that borders territorial.
they have a smile of someone that cannot possibly be trusted, and trust them duma does not. around them sits an air of malice and a dark strength to act on it besides; among the worst of this figure is the fact that duma cannot immediately know their thoughts or intentions. all he can feel is a threat.
and traces, were he to look close, of blood not unlike his own.
" you, " duma snarls, chest suddenly heaving, and there's molten fire leaking from the violence of his tone. his temples pulse, fighting something that he cannot place, but his hands make no motion to soothe himself. if he is to rule this land someday soon, he must make himself known to any who may stand in his way. " i know not who you are or who you may claim to be. i care not what you do nor unto whom you do it, but know this:
" do not obstruct me. should i find you a nuisance that i cannot ignore, i shall not leave enough of you to feed to the vultures. "
Duma's fury is met with one of their own. Grima rises to his warning, and they're momentarily glad that nobody is around to witness the exchange between the two. The calm, polite facade drops, and they hiss in the face of the War Father, an ancient presence that Grima had truly never thought to meet in person. Their memories were muddled and mixed, but childhood fury rose to the surface in seconds. Years in Thabes felt distant echoes of the dragons in Valentia who ruled.
"You think me a threat now? How your arrogance precedes you. I will not make myself smaller to soothe the desires of a Divine Dragon. I will see every bit of humanity and divinity fall at my feet and if you think it to be a problem, then one of us will die at the end of time. Gracing me with your presence after so long... Were I a foolish child perhaps I would be delighted to be recognized as a problem."
Grima's features are twisted into a scowl as they speak. There's nothing but venom in every word, punctuated by an unnatural rattling of their voice.
"You crushed my home. You left me! Trapped beneath the rubble of Thabes! You old fool! I begged the gods for reprieve and release from my prison and none of you heard my cries. So I freed myself. My strength will never be stifled again. Not for you, not for Naga, not for any dragon who thinks their divinity rises above my own. I fought for my place in this world and I will fight again if need be."
They continue to bristle in his presence, teeth bared as they stare right back at him. Rationality had flown entirely out of the window as the spoke. A more human part of them clawed at them desperately in an attempt to reel their anger back but nothing could be done now. Grima had gone too far, spitting and hissing in their full bravado.